Impossibilities
by mushroomfaeries
Summary: Casey Novak seems to have a predisposition for pursuing impossible relationships, and it's begun to take quite the emotional toll on her. She turns to a friend for comfort... which ultimately leads to yet another impossible pursuit.
1. Confessions

Casey Novak was never exactly an open book. From childhood, she was always the winner at hide and seek; she hid herself in the tiniest corners and never said a word, not even when they called her, exclaiming that they'd given up. She was raised prim and proper, never a hair out of place, never a toe out of line. She never once told a secret when a friend confided in her; she never once confided a secret in a friend. For her entire life, Casey Novak may as well have been the queen of silence, the princess of secret keeping.

It had been four years since she'd started working for the Special Victims Unit. For those four years, Casey managed to keep the second biggest secret she'd ever kept. The first, of course, had already come out to her coworkers: Charlie. He was a secret in and of himself, an enigma, an entity about which too many people now knew. Of course, the exposure of that secret had long passed, and Casey had worked hard with her therapist to become comfortable with having that vulnerability exposed. Unfortunately, as soon as one biggest secret is revealed, a new one must take it's place. So for four years, Casey had managed to keep this secret. Yet again, a case hit too close to home, and her entire life came spilling out of her like stuffing from a torn-up teddy bear.

It was August 27th, and the case had barely been opened. All anybody knew was that Shane, a fifteen year old boy, had either had sex with or raped his English teacher. The team went out for drinks, because they'd closed a major case earlier that morning. Casey sat beside Detective Olivia Benson at the bar, staring into her bourbon, saying nothing as the team discussed the details of their new case.

"I just think it's messed up that a teacher would sleep with her student," remarked Elliot, taking a swig of his beer. Finn and Lake nodded in agreement; Olivia countered, "But not if he raped her."

"Come on, Liv, do you really believe her sob story? She was afraid of getting collared, so she made up some bull about him raping her so she could stay out of jail."

The team was so caught up in the argument of morality that they failed to notice Casey finish off the rest of her drink, leave money on the counter, and sulk out the door. They all failed to notice, that is, until Olivia slowly became disturbingly aware of the draft, and the lack of Casey's body heat by her side. "I'm gonna head out before I drink too much. Don't want to be too hungover to figure this shit out tomorrow," she lied,. The detective hurried out the door, catching up to Casey about a half a block away.

"Casey. Casey!" she called. The attorney kept on walking, trying to ignore the hint of concern in her friend's voice. "Casey!"

Finally, the young woman turned around, snapping, "What, Liv? I'm kind of trying to get home."

"Come talk to me. Please," encouraged Olivia, always the charming one. Try as she might, Casey couldn't help but melt a bit at the worried glint in Olivia's mocha eyes. Those eyes, mused Casey. The usually stubborn woman became immediately and uncharacteristically compliant, as she tended to be around the brunette. They walked arm in arm down the street, breathing through the thick and humid August air. "Why is this hitting you so hard?"

Casey let out a deep sigh. The alcohol in her system made her more ready to tell the tale, but she was still hesitant. This was, after all, her new biggest secret. Ultimately, the words began flowing out of the redhead's mouth before she could stop them:

"I was sixteen, and a sophomore. I fell head over heels for my English teacher, who was twenty three at the time. I knew it was wrong. I really did understand that. But… god, what a beautiful human being. I got straight A's in that class; I hung on her every word." Casey paused, watching Olivia's eyebrow raise at the use of feminine pronouns. "She helped me get into her class for the next year, a class only available to seniors. When I returned to school the next fall, it turned out that she'd been relocated to a school forty minutes away. We kept in touch, first by email, and then we exchanged phone numbers. She asked me out for coffee, and… one thing led to another, and suddenly I'm lost in this woman's arms, tangled up in her sheets, not knowing exactly what to do next. We… we snuck around together for a year and a half, until we started talking about our future. She had this overwhelming guilt that she was taking something from me, my youth or something. No matter what I did or said, she felt guilty for loving me… So we had to break up. God, Liv, it was the best year and a half of my life. I just think that sometimes, these things are more complicated than we make them out to be. Maybe she was seven years older than I was. But she loved me, Liv, and I loved her."

At this point, Casey had stopped walking and sat down on the curb, with Olivia beside her. The two sat in silence, letting the heavy summer air push their shoulders down until they were unrecognizable as a strong detective and a formal attorney; rather, they resembled the exhausted, tipsy, emotionally strained young women they were under the masks they wore in daily life. They resembled the brunette confident, the listening companion sitting beside the wreck of a girl who just poured out the secrets she'd been holding in for ages.

Casey's raspy voice grew even more rough and ragged as she concluded her story: "I'm sorry, Liv. You didn't need to know all of that."

"No, I didn't," agreed Olivia, taking the pale woman's hand in her own, "But I'm glad you told me. Case, she took advantage of her authority over you. You admired her, and she exploited that-"

"Liv, NO. It wasn't like that. It wasn't like that at all. Forget it. I shouldn't have told you."

Olivia Benson could do nothing but watch in stunned silence, tainted by a hint of regret, as her friend stood up, wobbled on her unsteady feet, and marched away.


	2. Insomnia

It was well past 3am. Casey lay awake in bed, copper curls sprawled out every which way, guilt weighing heavy on her chest. She didn't like fighting with Olivia. She didn't like upsetting Olivia. She quite liked Olivia, actually. Maybe a little too much, remarked a voice in the back of the woman's head. Maybe a little too much, she agreed. Maybe just a little too much.

But how could one not like her just a little too much? How could anyone look into Olivia's eyes, those goddamned eyes that had kept Casey up night after night, and not free-fall through the air to land in those eyes? Those eyes that were the dirt at the base of a tree falling in the woods, falling the way Casey always fell in love: quickly, with reckless abandon, and with a great crash at the end. Those eyes that were the deep brown of coffee so tempting to the caffeine junkie trying to quit, those baby doe eyes after which Casey had secretly nicknamed the woman Bambi. How could anyone look at those eyes, and not melt to the very core?

And could she really blame Olivia, whose entire life was dedicated to sex crimes, for thinking the worst of Casey's past? Could she really blame the woman who spent all day surrounded by people who had been sexually victimized for worrying about Casey, for thinking maybe the relationship hadn't been as healthy as Casey thought? The redheaded woman knew with every fiber of her being that her teacher, Elizabeth, hadn't taken advantage of her- but could she blame Olivia for jumping to that conclusion, giving the cases they'd both seen in which teachers had abused their power and exploited students' admiration?

Casey had scarcely any idea what she was doing when she threw off the covers, grabbed her keys from the nightstand, and marched down through the lobby of her apartment building. Before it even registered in her mind what she was doing, she found herself in the parking lot of Olivia's apartment, running over her lips with raspberry gloss and doing her best to make herself look presentable, despite wearing penguin-printed pajama bottoms and an old hoodie that once belonged to Charlie. Please be awake, the woman begged mentally, not thinking twice about knocking on the presumably sleeping cop's door at 3:52 in the morning. Please be awake, she repeated over and over, dragging her nervous body up the stairs, all four flights, until she found herself at the door of one Olivia Jane Benson… and promptly turned around and walked away.

What the hell were you thinking? You can't just show up at her door at almost 4am and expect to have a legitimate conversation. Are you deranged? What the hell, Casey? The woman mentally berated herself the entire ride back to her apartment. Were you honestly expecting her to invite you in for a cup of coffee? Did you think she would let you explain yourself, tell you it would all be okay?

Casey paced through her apartment until the sky was pink and orange with the sunrise, running through her head possible scenarios for her explanation and apology to Olivia. On one hand, she really wanted to just drop the topic and pretend nothing had happened. On the other, she knew that things would be uncomfortable between her and Olivia until they talked things out, and the last thing Casey wanted was more discomfort in her line of work. There was enough tension between her and Elliot, who seemed to resent the woman for moving into their lives and getting so close to his best friend and partner.

The grandfather clock in Casey's living room chimed as it hit 6 o'clock, signifying to Casey that it was time to get out of 'emotionally distressed' mode and switch into 'professional' mode. She imagined it as flipping a switch in her brain, and suddenly all thoughts of Olivia were quieted as she focused on the case. Compartmentalizing came naturally to the woman; it was one of the things she'd needed to learn to survive her relationship with Charlie- it gave her the ability to exist within the relationship as though she hadn't studied cases about people like him hurting people like her.

After showering, dressing, and drinking three cups of coffee- the caffeine would be much needed after the all nighter she had just pulled- Casey headed off to work, determined not to let her personal issues affect her work. After all, she had a case to help close and somebody to lock up.


	3. Apology

A/N: I'd never actually realized that these cases take place over such a long time period. In the beginning of the episode "Impulse," the date is August 27th, but by the end, it's October 2nd. For the sake of accuracy, I won't be mentioning specific episodes anymore; I'll use fictional cases when need be, and that way the story can follow a logical timeline.

Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU or any of its characters, nor do I claim to. I am making no profit off of this story; it is simply written for my entertainment and that of other SVU fans.

* * *

They were in a taxi on the way to the bar when she said it. Normally the gang didn't go out two nights in a row, but it was a Saturday night and everyone had finished a lot of paperwork; a cause worth celebrating. Casey had been silently playing a game with herself for the past three miles: after this block, I'll apologize. No, after the light turns green, I will. I'll do it in thirty seconds. I'll do it after we pass that jogger. For somebody who made a living off of confronting people in a courtroom, Casey was remarkably terrible with personal confrontation. Still, she knew that she needed to apologize to Olivia, or else the pair would continue to avoid each other as they had all morning. Besides, Olivia must have wanted to talk, right? Casey reasoned that otherwise, Olivia wouldn't have volunteered to accompany her in getting the warrant. The apology built up in the base of Casey's throat like a helium balloon rising to the ceiling until it finally burst out of her mouth:

"I'm sorry for yesterday, Olivia."

Olivia, startled by the other woman's raspy voice in the otherwise silent car, jumped a bit. "What do you mean?"

"I'm sorry I snapped at you yesterday," elaborated Casey, letting out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "When we were talking about… you know. I know you were just trying to look out for me. I just get really defensive, because she was… she meant a lot to me."

Olivia nodded, her curls bouncing. "I just worry about you, Case. I worry a lot." She gave a shy smile to Casey, lacing their fingers together. The skin-to-skin contact sent a jolt of energy through Casey's body, beginning at the crown of her head and settling somewhere in the pit of her stomach. It was a frightening feeling, the kind you get when you're at the top of a hill on a rollercoaster and you know you're about to fall. It was the sort of feeling she hadn't felt in a very (very, very) long time…

"Case? You coming?" Olivia's voice broke through Casey's slight trace, and the woman realized they'd reached the bar. "Come on, the guys are waiting."

Casey, like an obedient lamb, followed her friend into the bar, eager to drink. It had been a long week, especially taking into account the last twenty four hours. She sat herself at her usual place to the right of Olivia and the left of whatever stranger took the seat, and ordered two shots of vodka.

"Drinking a little more than usual?" Remarked Stabler as Casey downed the first shot.

"It's been a rough week," she responded nonchalantly, taking the second before asking the bartender for her usual bourbon.

"Care to share?" Finn piped up. Casey could already feel the alcohol buzzing in her system- was this going to be the moment? Was she going to reveal yet another secret to her colleagues, despite knowing she'd regret it in the morning? No. No, she was not going to sit up straight and tall and shout, "I'm a fucking dyke!" like she had at her parents' twenty-second anniversary party, an hour after she had stolen a bottle of champagne and downed it while hiding beneath a table? No. The vision flashed through her mind and for a few moments, Casey was incredibly tempted to follow the urge- she had to grip the underside of her barstool and bite her lip until it bled before she could respond, "I'm good, thanks."

You shouldn't be drinking. You know you do stupid things when you're drunk, reminded that damn voice in the back of Casey's head. "Shut the fuck up," she murmured, asking for another shot.

"Casey," Olivia inquired, "Who are you talking to?" Casey shook her head in response.

* * *

An hour later, Casey was so drunk, she could hardly remember who she was. Little did her friends know, that had been exactly her intention when she accepted Elliot's invitation to the bar. All she wanted at the time was a chance to be anybody but herself, because herself was a rather bothersome person to be. The other four conferred quietly for a moment, all of them slightly buzzed but nowhere near drunk, deciding who would take Casey home. At first, Olivia shied away from the responsibility; she worried she might upset the girl once more. She came around, though, upon remembering that Casey had a tendency to spill her guts when she was drunk, and Sober Casey probably didn't want anybody else knowing her whole story about her teacher. "I'll take her," Olivia announced, not taking any argument from the others. "She'll stay with me tonight. Come on, Case," she said, picking up the other woman fireman-style and carrying her out to the front of the bar, where she hailed a taxi.

When they reached Olivia's apartment, Olivia insisted on carrying Casey upstairs, where she lay the drunken woman in her bed, deciding to take the couch that night.

"Can I get you some water, Casey? Can I do anything for you?"

Casey responded only by shaking her head and giggling.

"Well, you stay in here and rest. If you need to puke, the bathroom's down the hall. I'm going to sleep on the couch."

"Livvy Livvy Livvy Lou, stay with meeee," sang Casey before bursting into a fit of giggles. "I love love love you, Livvy. You're my best friend ever." Olivia didn't have much of a choice in the matter; Casey had latched on to Olivia's arm and didn't seem to want to let go. She lay down beside the giggling redhead.

"Livvy, I'm going to tell you a story. Because I know you still think Elizabeth took advantage of me. She was perfect, Olivia,_ perfect_. She had the prettiest brown eyes, kind of like yours but kind of not, and she loved Shakespeare with a passion. A _passion_. Almost as much as she loved me, hehe. Almost. And before we were together, we went out for coffee, and there was mistletoe, and we were just friends then, and I kissed that woman so hard. I put every ounce of love I had into that kiss, and she took a second, but she kissed me back, and I swear to God I saw fireworks. _Fireworks_, Olivia! And that's how I knew. That's how I knew she loved me back. I love love loved her, Olivia, and if you think she exploited that, you can get fucked. Hehe… _get fucked_… like I did. Like I did when I was with her. Hehe. Haha! Hahahaha! I like to think she still has my virginity… in a locket somewhere. A pretty pretty locket, pretty like her eyes that looked kind of like yours… you have pretty eyes, Olivia… pretty Olivia…" And without giving Olivia even a second to process what she'd said, Casey drifted into unconsciousness.


	4. Coming Out

**A/N**: I was watching SVU the other day (as I almost always am) and it was the episode wherein Olivia is off undercover with the environmental activists, and Casey needs her to show up for court- and there's this moment where Casey says something to the effect of, "Elliot, have you heard from Liv?" And I squeaked a little bit because she calls Elliot by his full name, but she calls Olivia a nickname, which is obviously hardcore evidence that they're in love. Anyway, thanks so much for the kind reviews, and thank you for reading! You guys are so sweet.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Law and Order: SVU or any of its characters, nor do I claim to. I am making no profit off of this story; it is simply written for my entertainment and that of other SVU fans.

* * *

She awoke to a cold compress being gently placed on her head. The room was unfamiliar; the windows were in the wrong place for her bedroom, the sheets were too wrinkled, and the air smelled like coffee when Casey had recently switched to drinking tea. And there was somebody next to her. There was never somebody next to her. Casey was almost afraid to look and see who it was; all she could remember was getting terribly, terribly drunk, and she feared she may have had some kind of awful one-night stand. Be brave, Casey, she commanded herself, and slowly shifted her eyes to the right.

There sat Olivia Benson, in all her bed-headed glory, bending over Casey's weak body with a cold compress in one hand and a cup of water in the other. "Liv? Liv, oh my god, I am so sorry. We didn't- we didn't-" Casey stuttered, unable to find a professional way of phrasing it.

"No, Casey. I took you home from the bar because you were drunker than I've ever seen you."

"Did I say anything? Please say I didn't make a complete ass of myself."

"You told me about Elizabeth, mostly."

Christ. That's what she'd been most afraid of- Casey had spent long enough passing for a perfectly heteronormative attorney, ever professional, who never, ever discussed her sex life with a coworker. She knew from the clouded look in Olivia's eyes- the one people get when you've told them too much- that she must have given too many details. Goddamnit, you wreck, she scolded herself, now she probably hates you.

"Lay back, Case. You must be hungover. Besides, I think we have some talking to do. I've found out… quite a lot about you in the last two days, and friends don't keep secrets like this. Start talking, Case. Start wherever you want."

Casey could clearly see why Olivia was so good with victims: she was probably the most charming woman live. Something about the way she lowered her voice and brought her mouth close to Casey's ear made the woman ready and willing to tell her entire life story- even sober.

"The last time I drank that much, it was my parents' twenty-second anniversary party. They invited the whole neighborhood, plus our entire extended family. I was thirteen, and I stole a bottle of champagne from the fridge and hid under a table to drink it- all of it. It was the only way I could get through the party- not that it was really that bad, honestly, but I had a rebellious streak and I was under a lot of emotional distress from my… my… struggles… with my sexuality, and I couldn't take listening to everyone tell me what a nice wife I'd make someday. So after I was completely wasted, I out from under the table, stood up on a chair, and came out to the entire party. In my head, I had this whole speech about bisexuality and choices and how okay it was, but none of that would come out. I just stood there, blinking for a minute, before shouting, _'I'm a fucking dyke!'_

"My parents grounded me for six months after that, and I wasn't allowed to see any of my friends. I didn't really have any friends anymore, anyway. Things were kind of shitty from then until I was fifteen, when I met Elizabeth. I would stay after school for extra credit work, I would work with her on all of my essays, even ones for other classes. I took the long way to all of my classes just so I could pass her room. And I told her I wasn't… you know, straight. And she just hugged me and told me it would be okay, that she was there for me. And she was, Liv. She really was.

"She was my first love. I was devastated when we broke up, but I understood. I didn't really move on, though, not until college. Then I met Charlie. When he was medicated and going to therapy, he was such a wonderful guy. But then there were times when his meds wouldn't be working right, or he'd go off them for a while, or he'd stay medicated but stop going to therapy. And he would get possessive. He didn't let me go anywhere; I almost failed a semester because he was scared I'd fall in love with another one of my teachers. And then it would get physical. And then sexual- actually, it would usually get sexual while he was hitting me. And one day, I just broke. I couldn't take it anymore. I made Charlie leave, and I never saw him after that. He wrote me forty six letters, though- I never had the guts to read any of them, but they're in a drawer at my apartment. And that… is basically the story of my romantic life."

Casey finished her tale with a deep breath, not quite sure why she'd told Olivia that but feeling relieved that she did, like a weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. Olivia sat silently, sipping the water she'd brought in for her friend, taking in the story she'd just heard. Casey, in a desperate attempt to lighten the attitude, joked, "So what about you, Olivia? Hasn't Detective Benson ever taken a walk on the sapphic side?"

_Stupid stupid stupid, the fucking sapphic side? Are you from the 18th Century?_ That damn voice in the back of Casey's head wouldn't stop ostracizing her, but it quieted down a bit as Olivia took a breath.

"Alexandra Cabot."

Casey's heart crashed through her chest, landing deep in her stomach. She'd heard rumors about Olivia and the former ADA, and it killed her. Not only would she then have to live up to the expectations set by Alex's stellar conviction rate, but she'd also have competition for Olivia's heart. It was easier to pretend that she didn't stand a chance than to confront that maybe she did, but only if she could make Olivia happier than Alex did.


	5. Dinner

**A/N:** _Sorry for the long delay, my darlings; I've been really unwell and dealing with some personal issues lately. I'm back now, though, and hopefully it won't happen again anytime soon!_

**Disclaimer:** _I do not own Law and Order: SVU or any of its characters, nor do I claim to. I am making no profit off of this story; it is simply written for my entertainment and that of other SVU fans._

* * *

Casey Novak was a lot of things she didn't quite like. She was a closeted bisexual still not completely comfortable in her own skin. She was a victim of domestic abuse. She was an insecure little girl posing as a grown woman. But never before had she been the jealous type. That was one thing on which she prided herself: she may have been needy yet distant and detached from her emotions and scared and lonely, but she was not jealous, not even when she was seeing Elizabeth and knew that she'd have to watch the older woman pretend to be single; not even when she had a mad infatuation a married colleague when she was working homicide; not at all, until Olivia came along. Suddenly, Casey was a puddle of emotions she couldn't control, flinching every time someone said "Elliot" and "Olivia" in the same sentence because come on, anybody with eyes could see Stabler had fallen for Olivia almost as hard as Casey had. Suddenly, she was biting her tongue every time the man took Olivia's arm, and digging her nails into her palm every single time anybody mentioned the name Alexandra fucking Cabot.  
Three days had passed since the staticky record in the back of Casey's mind had begun repeating, _Alex and Olivia, Alex and Olivia_, over and over, and she still hadn't spoken to the object of her affection. Three days had passed, and she hid in her apartment directly after work every night, reading case file after case file, somehow believing that by working hard enough, maybe she could go back to feeling nothing for anyone. Three days had passed before the silence became unbearable and Casey found herself hanging up the phone with one Olivia Benson, having made dinner plans for that evening. From there, three hours had passed between the end of the phone call and the moment Casey sat at the table she'd reserved, waiting rather impatiently for her date- _no, stupid, not a date. Not a date. Just dinner between friends._

Casey stared at the glass door of the restaurant, a little Italian place called DiNozzo's, biting her thumbnail in anticipation of the difficult conversation to come. This was it. There was no going back now- Casey was going to have to confess everything. She was going to have to admit that it devastated her to hear about Alex. She was going to have to admit that she kind of sort of felt a little more for Olivia than the professional relationship called for.

The redhead was only vaguely aware of her jaw dropping when the door swung open. In stepped a more-than-mortal entity, a goddess in a little black dress. Beneath the flushed skin of her wrists, Casey could feel her heart pounding hard; her lungs suddenly seemed to shrink to a quarter their normal size. When her own eyes met the other woman's, she felt a warmth growing in her cheeks that spread across her entire body, warming even the cool air of the air conditioned restaurant, and settling across the ivory skin of her thighs. Casey thanked every star in the sky that she'd thought to wear stockings and a sweater with her dress. It was bad enough that she'd have to expose her rawest emotions; the last thing she needed was for Olivia to see the physical effect she had on her.

The brunette woman stood at the podium, chatting with the hostess. Likely out of nerves, or perhaps because of the dry air outside, Olivia ran her tongue across her lower lip; Casey nearly passed out. Fucking ridiculous, she scolded herself, considering how easily she interrogated perverts in court, how easily she stood up to defense attorneys, how easily confrontation had always come to the brave woman- yet how difficult it had to be just to tell a pretty woman how she felt. Casey was never like this with men. With men, she had leverage. She had something they wanted. She knew how to say all the right words, knew to listen for their magic words, too, knew how to navigate her way around a world in which she was only visitor. But women… women brought her back to the days of Elizabeth. Women turned her into the shy sixteen year old girl she used to be. Women were scary and strong and it was impossible to know what they wanted. Women… well, there was a reason Casey hadn't dated any women since Elizabeth. They were scary. Oh god. Olivia approached the table, snapping Casey out of her lamentation and back into the world that existed outside of her head.

"Hey, Novak."

"Benson."

"What did you need to talk about so badly? You sounded… distressed on the phone."

This was it. Don't fuck it up, Case. She parted her lips, rose red, and a dry puff of air escaped. No words, not yet. It was as though the entire monologue Casey had prepared was written on cards before her eyes, cards that had been dropped in a puddle on the way to the restaurant: the words were blurred and muddy; she couldn't remember a word of what she wanted to say.

"I like you." _Fuck._

"Yeah, Case, I think we established that. I like you, too. You're a great friend and a damn fantastic ADA. So?"

_Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck this, fuck that, fuck her, fuck it._ Why couldn't Olivia just get a clue? Was she putting Casey through this just for the hell of it? Did she find it funny to watch the redhead squirm?

"No, Liv, I mean I really like you. Like I really, really like you, in the way that means I want to see you every morning when I wake up. I want to know when you started drinking coffee and why you take it black because isn't that awfully bitter? I want to know every scar on your body and how you got them, and if you ever needed stitches for any of them, and if you needed stitches but didn't get them because you were just a kid and you were scared of hospitals or something. I want to know if you have a favorite day of the week and a favorite flower and a favorite lyric from your favorite song. I want to know what you look like when you've just woken up after sleeping for thirteen hours because god, Liv, you need to sleep for thirteen hours sometime, you work so much and it scares me because when the hell do you sleep? I want to know if you play an instrument and if you want to learn, I want to teach you to play the piano, and I want to play you all the prettiest songs because I think maybe you're made of all the prettiest songs and prettiest things and I like you, Liv, I really fucking like you."

Finally, finally, finally, the redhead fell silent. And that's all there was. Silence.


End file.
